


but not what we may be

by orphan_account



Series: legend!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean runs a pretty tight operation. Someone’s a minor god or goddess, it’s their first time on Earth, and Dean hooks them up with a human who can show them the ropes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but not what we may be

**Author's Note:**

> ETA 11/29/16: hi i'm sophie, aka ao3 user @saltruism. i'm gonna orphan this series because i don't want it on my ao3 anymore, haha. anyway, in case you were like Hey Wait I Forgot The User That Wrote This, it was me, i wrote this. love you. bye.

Dean runs a pretty tight operation. Someone’s a minor god or goddess, it’s their first time on Earth, and Dean hooks them up with a human who can show them the ropes. He’s not exactly dealing with Olympians, but he’s met some pretty cool people. Or. Well. Not people. He’s seen his fair share of gods. They’re kind of almost normal, in the grand scheme of things.

So when his last customer of the day comes in the doors, looking electric and sort of terrifying, like they all do, Dean’s not exactly impressed. He’s kind of preoccupied thinking about how everyone else has already gone home, so now he’s gonna have to turn this poor schmuck away on a Friday night, and it’s going to suck and he’s going to feel guilty.

 

But, seriously. Doesn’t word get around up in wherever-the-hell-gods-live? Don’t drop down to Earth at 7’o’clock on a goddamned Friday. Dean Winchester will not help you at 7’o’clock on a goddamned Friday. 7’o’clock on a goddamned Friday means that he’s off work. He needs food, for Christ’s sake. He’s  _human._

"Sorry, buddy," Dean calls. The god freezes, halfway to the front desk, and Dean feels the tiniest bit guilty. "We’re closing up now. Come back another time."

The god blinks - with, holy shit, very blue eyes - and shakes his head. “You don’t understand,” he says. “I– I cannot return. I need. I need a place to go.”

Jesus. The dude’s really gonna make him spell it out. This is not how he wants to be spending his Friday. “Look, man, there are plenty of places to go around here. Magic yourself some money and check into a hotel for a night.”

The guy’s jaw clenches. “Please. I don't have another place to go. You're my last resort.” He looks equal parts frustrated and haughty, which pisses Dean off, but doesn’t really surprise him. Minor gods always think they rule the fucking world.

"Gee, thanks," Dean says. "I’m touched." He shifts his weight. Well. The least he can do is introduce himself, right? Maybe find the god later, cut him a special deal, or something. "I’m Dean, by the way."

The god stares. “I know who you are,” he says, like it’s common knowledge. Okay. Weird.

Dean waits. Nothing.

Typical.

"Dude, the general idea when someone tells you their name is that you also tell them yours."

"Oh." The god blinks, and then makes a series of loud, harsh sounds that sound like a giant blender full of metal and that Dean can only describe as "truly terrifying."

"Jesus  _Christ,_ " Dean yelps.

The god frowns. “No. I said -“

"Whoa, whoa. Just. Wait. Can you - what do humans call you?"

He contemplates it for a second. “Castiel.”

Dean almost holds out a hand to shake, but thinks better of it. “Great. Nice to meet you, Castiel. Here’s the thing. My staff are already out of here. I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you. I can refer you to a hotel, or a shelter, or you can go back upstairs and chill with your godly pals for the weekend and come back down later.”

Castiel flinches. “I cannot, as you say, go back upstairs.” He uses air quotes.  _Air quotes._ That’s new.

"Oh, c’mon, man. My job ain’t easy either, okay? But I really gotta close up shop. So you can -"

"No," Castiel cuts in, voice strained, and shuts his eyes. "You don't understand. I cannot return to the gods. I have been - I've been cast out. They will not allow me to rejoin them."

"Cast out?" Dean asks, incredulously. He’s never heard of anything like that before. "Like, what? They drop-kicked you out of - out of your home, you mean?"

Castiel nods tightly and does not meet Dean’s eyes. “So you see,” he says. “Why you are my final option. My powers have been - greatly reduced.” Dean’s not so sure about that. He can feel the electricity and he can smell the ozone surrounding Castiel, which is unusual. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s ever sensed a minor god so powerful.

Dean shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

"Alright," he says. "Alright, buddy. I’m gonna make an exception. But - but just this once, okay? Don’t tell your friends."

"I don't have any friends," Castiel says, and shrugs. "I doubt that it will be a problem."

Dean feels a hysterical laugh press up in his ribs, and rubs the amulet around his neck. “Right. Okay. Well. Follow me, Cas.” The nickname sounds better. A little more human. A little less dangerous.

Cas shifts uncomfortably. “Where are you taking me?”

"Home, idiot. Well. My home, anyway."

Cas bristles. “You should not refer to a god in such a disrespectful manner.” And,  _no._

"Rule number one, pal: you’re not upstairs anymore. You’re downstairs. Built by humans, owned by humans, ruled by humans. It’s a shitty world nine times out of ten. But it’s ours. So I can refer to you however the hell I want." Dean’s not sure why he’s so ticked off. Maybe it’s because it’s 7’o’clock on a goddamned Friday, and he’s taking a minor god home with him.  _Christ._

"Regardless," Cas snaps, dangerously, "you should show me some respect. I said that my powers were reduced, not nonexistent."

Dean doesn’t back down right then, which is probably stupid. “What’re you gonna do, Cas? Blast me? Where the hell would you be then, huh? Where would you be without me, if your buddies’ve gone and sealed you off from upstairs?”

Cas’s eyes flash. He stays silent. “I’m sorry,” Dean adds, quieter, and starts walking towards the exit to the employee parking lot. Cas hesitates, and then follows quickly. “I get that it’s not what you’re used to, and I’m the last guy on Earth you want to be friends with. But this is it. This is what I’ve got. You’re not a god here. We stand on equal ground. Clear?”

The god’s shoulders stiffen, but he nods.

Dean opens the driver’s side door and Cas stops, confused.

"What?" Dean asks. Cas glances at the car and then quickly back up Dean. "Oh, fucking - man, are you telling me you’ve never ridden in a car before? Christ. Christ. For a god, you don’t get out much, huh?"

Cas glares. “Some of my siblings kept more - in touch with humanity, I guess, than I did.” He pauses. “I did not realize how much I had forgotten. How much I had missed, and lost. You did not have cars the last time I visited.”

Dean helps Cas into the passenger side and shows him wordlessly how to buckle a seatbelt. “Yeah. How old are you, exactly?”

Cas exhales. “I don’t remember. Very old, I think.”

Dean rolls his eyes and gets into the driver’s side, and gets a short moment of satisfaction when Cas jumps at the sound of the engine. “So you’ve been here before, huh? How come you never came back? Humanity not good enough for you?”

"Humanity was too good for me," Cas says, softly. Dean blinks. Oh. "I would have come back."

"But why didn’t you?"

"This vehicle does not seem very safe," Cas says instead of answering, and he doesn’t get mad, or look annoyed, or smite Dean’s ass, but it’s pretty clear they’re not going to discuss Cas’s life any further. And that’s fine with Dean.

"Relax," Dean says. "I got protection sigils and anti-crash charms all over this baby."

Cas sits up straighter. “I know,” he says, uneasily. “I feel them.” He reaches out, brushes the dashboard, and before Dean can tell him to stop, a bright golden rune is flashing on the hood of his car.

Dean swerves. “Fuck, Cas, what the hell is that?”

The rune flashes twice more, and then fades. Cas looks satisfied with himself. “A protection sigil.”

"I told you, there are a shitload of those all over this car!"

"Yes. But they are not adequate."

"Excuse me?" Dean is offended. He is damn good at protection charms. He was best in his class at Salem.

"Your sigils are strong, for a human," Cas amends. "But I am a god. Mine are far stronger, and much more effective." Dean snorts. So he didn’t land himself one of the modest ones, then.

"If you’re a god, why the hell do you feel unsafe in a car? You could magic yourself outta here before impact."

Cas stares at the side of Dean’s head. “It’s not for  _my_ benefit,” he says, slowly, like Dean’s stupid. “It’s for yours.”

"Oh." Oh.

It’s silent for awhile, until they pull up in front of Dean’s house. It’s not much, just two bedrooms and a kitchen that is too dark and a living room with plain walls. “Home sweet home,” Dean says, and then snorts, even though it’s not all that funny.

Cas gets out of the car just fine, but leaves the door open. Dean tries not to laugh as he slams it shut and leads Cas up the walkway. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Cas is weird, and kind of aggravating, and a little too blunt.

And Dean likes him. Somehow.


End file.
